


because i've built my life around you

by Anonymous



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Fluff, Getting Together, Mild Angst and then fluff, Multi, Pining, Polyamory, Polyamory Reader Insert, Unrequited love that's actually not unrequited at all!, baking cookies, gender neutral reader, so very much pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 09:34:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20356285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: You were afraid of changes, things you couldn't control. You were so used to wanting what you couldn't have, but you didn't want to add anymore stress on top of it.Sometimes, you could be a little dramatic, though.





	because i've built my life around you

Things had always been so easy. It’d been you and Robin against the world, ever since you were little, just the two of you basically speaking your own language and laughing at the bullshit. When she’d started to play the French Horn, you’d picked up a clarinet and joined her in the band. When she’d auditioned for musicals, you’d joined stage crew. When you’d decided you really liked the arcade, she didn’t get it, but she’d spend time with you and watch you on the machines.

When she’d gotten her job at Scoops Ahoy, you had showed up every single day just to annoy her at work. You two would laugh at everything: Steve, the customers, the stupid uniforms, Robin’s running tally of the number of girls Steve _hadn’t_ managed to seduce.

A perceptive person would realize you were in love with Robin Buckley, and had been for years. Luckily, Hawkins didn’t have that many perceptive people.

Least of all Steve Harrington, current bane of your existence and unfairly-pretty-newcomer to your two-some.

The first time Robin had brought him around - after everything, the mall fire and whatever the fuck had happened that left him with a black eye and bruises and scabbed-over cuts - she’d just said “He’s cool now.” Never explained anything else. You weren’t sure if there was an explanation that would satisfy you, anyway.

One day, you’d been about to mention something about her crush on Tammy Thompson when you abruptly cut yourself off. Steve had looked at you dubiously, but Robin had just said, “He knows.”

How Steve Harrington came to be the only other person in this goddamn town who knew your best friend didn’t like guys, you could never imagine. But yeah, you were a little threatened. And you couldn’t stand the thought of him badgering you about why you weren’t together if she was queer and you liked her, because guys like Steve were just _like that_, thought everything was so damn easy when it wasn’t.

You’d spent your whole life learning not to rock the boat. Which was why Steve threatening to dump you in the water had you so goddamn bothered. 

It didn’t help that he was just so goddamn _nice_ now, either.

“(Y/n)!” he stage-whispered, pounding on your first-floor bedroom window.

“Go away, Steve, it’s eleven p.m.,” you groused.

“No, it’s important!” 

With a sigh and an eye roll, you opened your window and let him crawl in, collapsing in a pile of gangly limbs like a baby deer. You felt an annoying surge of affection. 

“What is it?” you asked, not making a move to help the heap on your floor.

“Robin’s birthday.”

“It is tomorrow, yes.” You both knew this. Or at least you hoped he did. If he was gonna tell you that he forgot, you would probably kick him out.

“Well, I want to make it perfect. Barring taking her to a strip club, I’m not sure what cool, lady-centric thing I could do. I mean, she is turning eighteen. That could work.” He didn’t bother to sit up, even, just sort of uncurled and lay there staring up at you. 

You rolled your eyes. “You're not taking her to a strip club.” That wasn’t your scene, but it wasn’t hers, either, no matter how much you two liked women.

“You could pop naked out of a cake.” He said it so casually, so thoughtfully, like it was a totally normal thing to say. Like he hadn’t just done the emotional equivalent of reaching into your chest and yanking out your lungs.

You flushed. “Why would you think she'd want that?” You bit back curses and insults, because you knew Steve didn’t mean any harm, and Robin would be mad if you upset her new friend, and honestly, you’d feel kind of bad, too.

“Oh, c'mon, (Y/n). Robin is obviously crazy about you.” He rolled his eyes as though you were a dumbass. You weren’t sure if he’d picked up on the truth, that it was the other way around, but even this was painful enough.

You rolled your eyes right back. “What, just because we're best friends and she doesn't like guys?”

“No,” Steve explained patiently, “because she looks at you like you’re the goddamn sun. And before you try the ‘it’s a friend thing!’, she sure as hell doesn’t look at me like that.”

You snorted. “We’ve been best friends since we could walk, Steve. She’s like...a part of me.”

“That sounds pretty damn romantic, (y/n),” Steve pointed out. He was still sprawled out on the floor, and his hair framed his face beautifully, but it flopped up enough to show you his judgmental eyebrows. “And I’m pretty sure she’d say the same thing about you.”

He had a point. You did not like that he had a point. 

“Just because she’s gay doesn’t mean her birthday has to be about that,” you replied instead of arguing. “We could just...make her cookies, like anyone else.”

“But I want her to know that I love and accept her!” He pushed himself up into a seated position, staring imploringly into your eyes. 

You rolled your own, rewarding his earnestness with a smile. “She knows, Steve. You prove it every damn day.”

“Oh.” He thought about it for a minute and then gave you an awkward, bashful smile, the likes of which you would never have seen from him back in high school. “Cool.”

His hair grew out since high school, too. You couldn’t help but think he was prettier now. He was kind of pretty even then, but he then he would open his mouth and ruined it; now, he was prettier and nicer. He even looked good in that stupid Scoops Ahoy uniform, but then again, so did Robin.

Oh, lord, did you have a sailor kink?

You shoved the thought out of your mind and offered Steve a hand. “C’mon, let’s go bake cookies.”

“But - your parents?” He grasped your hand and pulled himself up off the ground, nearly crashing into you. For a former basketball player, sometimes he had the world’s worst coordination.

You laughed. “They’re not home. You could’ve used the door like a normal person, Harrington.”

Though he looked a bit awkward, he recovered remarkably quickly. “Aw, but where’s the fun in that?” he teased.

Fifteen minutes later, you were in your kitchen making cookies. Steve was already covered in flour, which was somehow entirely unsurprising.

“Let’s make rainbow cookies,” Steve suggested. “Like that flag that the people in the city use when they march.”

You rolled your eyes. Around Steve, that seemed to be the most common motion. “Fine, Steve. We’ll make Gay Cookies.” But you grinned.

You separated the dough into eight parts and started coloring them. Steve was confused by the fact that there were eight, but you explained that it was bigger than a rainbow, that there was teal and pink too, that each color had its own meaning. He listened attentively while he kneaded the colors into the dough.

When you were 16, you and Robin had snuck out and hitch-hiked to Chicago for their Pride March. It was a miracle you hadn’t been caught, and it was definitely one of the best memories the two of you had ever made together. 

You wondered if Steve would drive you back, this summer. You wouldn’t have to sneak, this time. 

Steve was the one who came up with the idea of making a whole rainbow tube of dough and then cutting it in half. You’d both been staring at the eight colored lumps for a few minutes, wondering, when he snapped his fingers, grabbed the purple, and got to work rolling it out. 

You managed to stay mostly clean until it came time to cut the rainbows. You made a few and then all of a sudden, Steve was sticking one on your cheek, laughing as you spluttered. 

“It looks good on you,” he teased. “Sweet and delicious.”

You swatted at him, taking the cookie and placing it on the baking sheet with your other hand. Then you rubbed at your cheek, just a little sticky with dough. “Asshole.”

“Nah,” he replied with his usual bravado, even after he winced. What a dork. “You love me.”

More than you cared to admit.

*****

“I’m just saying, (y/n), I’m pretty sure Steve is in love with you.”

“Don’t you start.” You rolled away from her across her plush carpet where the two of you had been laying. 

She made grabby hands at you. “No, come back,” she whined, gesturing at the spot where you’d previously been nestled into each other. “I mean, _I’m just saying_. And you’d be a really pretty couple.”

“You’re ‘just saying’ things that make no sense.” You rolled your eyes, but you did scoot back over into her side. She had called you pretty, indirectly, which was something.

“Nuh uh.” She stuck out her tongue at you. “You’re perfect. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

Your heart quickened. “Anyone?” She nodded solemnly, her face terrifyingly, heart-poundingly close to your own.

The doorbell rang, shattering the moment.

“That’s probably him.” Robin sat up quickly - too quickly, perhaps - and pushed herself onto her feet. 

You’d been over at her house early because you wanted to give her your present alone, a denim jacket you’d found at a thrift shop and painstakingly ironed a couple of your favorite patches on. “Happy birthday.” She’d hugged it really close, remarked that it smelled like you, and immediately slipped it on, beaming. 

But now Steve was here, and whatever spell had been in the room just…_broke_ with the sound of the doorbell. Things were different now, and while you were getting used to it, you still mourned the time when it was just you-and-Robin.

Even if you liked Steve more than you cared to admit. Even if your heart quickened traitorously when she told you he was in love with you.

For as long as you could remember, you’d been hopelessly in love with Robin Buckley. You couldn’t stand it if you were going to be hopelessly in love with Steve, too.

Steve put the boxes he was carrying down and hugged Robin after she let him in. Then, he hugged you, tight enough he might’ve crushed your bones, and Robin gave you a knowing smirk.

Steve handed her a box with an expensive necklace in it, and you thanked god Robin didn’t like guys, because there was no way you could ever compete with Steve Harrington. He delicately placed it around her neck and showed it off, a little cluster of green gems surrounded by silver.

“It’s beautiful.” Robin pressed her fingers against the surface. You knew for a fact it was now the nicest thing she owned, and it kind of clashed with the denim jacket and totally outdid it, but no one seemed to notice. 

“Aaaaaaand…” Steve pulled out the tupperware, which you had allowed him to take home. “We made treats?”

“You can bake?” she asked him skeptically.

He pressed an offended hand over his heart. “I worked at a restaurant!”

“_We_ worked at an _ice cream shop_,” Robin corrected. “There was no baking involved.”

“(Y/n), back me up here.” Steve looked at you imploringly.

You shrugged, ghost of a smile playing at your lips. “He was alright.”

“Betrayed! By both those that I love!” Steve was so goddamn dramatic, and you and Robin burst into laughter. You squeezed your eyes shut to avoid whatever look she was giving you over _those_ words.

Robin wrestled open the Tupperware, practically cooing when she saw the rainbows. “These are so cute!”

“It’s a pride flag,” Steve declared. 

Robin snorted. “Yes, Steve, I can tell.”

“(Y/n) is really smart and taught me all about it.” He grinned at you. “Now I know what all the colors mean!” And then, to prove his point, he started rattling them off. 

By the end of his imperfect rendition, you and Robin were doubled over, laughing. It wasn’t that bad, he got all of them but switched a few, but there was just...something about Steve that made your insides go gooey.

Gross. 

“Maybe if (y/n) had tutored you, you could’ve passed Click’s class,” Robin teased.

“I did pass!”

“Barely.”

After you managed to stop laughing, Robin sampled the cookies and practically moaned in delight. “Okay, these are good. Really good.”

Steve nudged you, smirking. “It was mostly (y/n),” he admitted. “The real baker among us.”

“(Y/n), will you bake for me more often?” Robin fluttered her eyelashes at you. “Remember when we were little and we used to bake like, all the time?”

“And then school and life got in the way, and we didn’t have as much time.” You nodded. “We should do that again.”

“And you can teach Steve!” Robin declared. 

Steve tapped his lip. “Well, I’m pretty sure baking _would_ be a way to impress (y/n). If I can surpass the master, then you’ll _have_ to like me, right?” 

Robin smirked at you. You rolled your eyes. “I already like you, dingus.” Robin seemed to imply he meant a different sort of ‘like,’ but you knew she was being ridiculous.

“You don’t act like it.” He turned to Robin, pointing at you accusingly. “(Y/n) is very mean to me.”

“That’s just how (y/n) is,” Robin replied, biting back a teasing smile. 

All of a sudden you were being attacked by your two best friends. “Hey!” 

“It’s a sign of affection,” Robin explained, “because (y/n) is allergic to genuine human connection and vulnerability.”

“_Hey!_” you protested harder. It’s not that she was wrong, exactly, you were just _also_ ‘allergic’ to having your deepest idiosyncrasies exposed to Steve-fucking-Harrington, no matter how nice and cute and dorky he was now.

Steve shook his head. “Uh-uh. Look at the two of you. That’s some real genuine human connection right there.”

Robin laughed. “Yeah, cuz we met when we were _five_. Have you ever met a five-year-old that learned to be an emotionally repressed asshole yet?”

“Yes,” you and Steve answered at the same time. You glanced at each other and Steve laughed. 

“So what’s the plan for the night?” you asked, changing the subject _far away_ from your inner motivations and emotions. Robin calling you an emotionally repressed asshole didn’t hurt - she was right, and it was something you did on purpose - but you also didn’t want to go any further down that road. 

“Cooking a frozen pizza, eating these cookies, and watching as many classic movies as I can get Steve to consume,” she replied. The oven dinged. “And there’s our pizza. Let’s go.”

A birthday party of three wasn’t bad at all.

*****

The next three weeks had been _unbearable_. Your friends’ well-meaning but misguided match-making had ramped up, with each of them insisting you could and should date the other one. 

It was, quite frankly, ridiculous. It was frustrating. It was maddening. You had cried at least twice at night, which you would never tell a soul, and you were really sick of the whole thing. 

So, as humiliating as it was bound to be, as much as you were “allergic to genuine human connection and vulnerability,” you planned an intervention. Maybe if they realized how goddamn crazy they were driving you, they’d knock it off. 

You were still debating whether to do it one-on-one or both at the same time when the school day ended, but Robin had begun her usual badgering on the way out to the parking lot. “Date Steve, he looks at you with puppy dog eyes, he’d do anything you asked,” blah blah blah, all the stupid shit your heart hurt just to hear. 

So for the first time in your thirteen years of friendship, you wheeled around on her, and you screamed. “_Stop it!_” you demanded, voice cracking. Oh, shit, your eyes were already getting teary and this was not how you’d envisioned this conversation at all. “It’s not funny! It wasn’t funny the first time, and it isn’t now, and I’m sick of it.”

Robin looked hurt, and confused, and more than anything taken aback. “I’m not - (y/n), it’s not a joke.”

And because you were just so damn lucky, Steve pulled up in his car to pick you two up at precisely that moment. 

“Hey, (y/n), what’s wrong?” Steve’s face creased in concern. 

You whirled on him, because he wasn’t innocent either. “It’s your fault, too! Don’t act like you’re not making the same stupid comments.”

His eyes got wide and he held up his hands. You caught Robin shooting him a sympathetic look, and it just annoyed you more. 

“You’re both _awful_. Robin, always telling me Steve’s in love with me, Steve always telling me Robin is, and it’s not funny and it’s not fair and I’m _tired_ of it.” You were making a scene in the parking lot, but you didn’t care. No one paid attention to you anyway, so they’d leave you well enough alone when you were this worked up. “You make me want things I can’t have!” your voice cracked and you let out a stifled sob.

“What do you want, (y/n)?” Robin asked quietly, staring at you with big, searching eyes.

“Either of you. Both of you. Fuck, I don’t know.” And with that, you stormed off in the opposite direction, away from Robin and Steve and the shambles of your oldest friendship. You heard Steve call after you, but not Robin, and you just walked faster. 

You walked down the streets, turning towards the woods and finding solace in the trees. It was shaded but still warm, and the air felt nice on your skin. You picked your way through soft grass, past Will Byers’ little castle, past the stream that overflowed in the spring, and made your way to your favorite tree. 

It was a good tree. You grasped the lowest branch in your hands and swung yourself up into it, climbing higher and higher. Once upon a time, you had barely been able to reach the lowest branches; now, you managed to survey the surrounding area with ease. 

The only other time you’d fought with Robin had been over Tammy Thompson, two years ago, who you told her she was too good for, but she didn’t listen, and it was stupid petty jealousy about attention you weren’t getting, and you’d run off to this tree to sit and sulk and eventually, after looking at the world for long enough, you realized it was kind of silly. 

You were hoping for some of that magic again.

In the distance, you heard the occasional car, but also birds singing. It was the both-ness of Hawkins: natural and modern, birds and trees and cars and electricity. You liked it in spite of yourself, and it wasn’t the town’s fault its inhabitants were mostly petty and bullshit.

Hell, maybe even you were kind of bullshit, too. 

You heard a car engine abruptly disappear, too short to have simply passed. Maybe someone broke down. You shrugged. But then you heard footsteps, first far off and then approaching, and you heard Robin’s voice shouting, “(y/n)! Get down here, you asshole!”

“Robin, is that really necessary?” Steve asked. You couldn’t see him, but you could imagine his wince. 

“Yes,” she replied curtly. “This is the tree.” She knocked on the bark. “I know you’re up there.”

“What do you want?” you demanded sulkily. You didn’t bother to descend yet.

“To talk.” She kicked the tree trunk. “You asshole. You’re my best friend, get _down here_.”

It was not the most compelling argument, but you swung yourself down to sit on the lower branches. “So talk.”

“You’re a jerk!” she protested. “You can’t just - just _do that_.”

You were the jerk? You had no idea what she meant. “Do what?” you demanded, crossing your arms.

“Just - just say you like me, and Steve, or something, and then - and then just disappear.” Her eyes were red and you realized she’d been crying. You both had the habit of expressing frustration through waterworks. “It’s not _fair_. I’m supposed to be able to say something. Or he is. Or - Or...”

You snorted. “I saved you both time and energy, but I’m the asshole.” 

Steve looked at you tiredly. “Running out into the middle of the forest where we have to come find you isn’t really saving us effort.”

“No one asked you to do that, though.”

“She did.” Steve pointed at Robin. “Listen, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t - I didn’t realize I was hurting you. Because I was serious. I really do think y’all should date.”

“Yeah, well.” You pulled your arms tighter around yourself. 

“And she told me she had the same intentions. And I know intentions don’t mean we didn’t hurt you, but -”

Robin huffed frustratedly. “Did it never once occur to you that maybe Steve and I know what we’re talking about? And maybe you should have told us you were in love with us before assuming anything?”

“How can I be in love with either of you?” you demanded. “I’m only supposed to love one person.” 

“Yeah, well, I’m supposed to love boys and I don’t, so.” Robin shrugged. “Maybe love is bigger than Hawkins thinks it is.”

You sighed. “So where does that leave us?”

Robin reached up and yanked you out of the tree. With a yelp, you fell on top of her in a heap, and then she was kissing you, over and over and over, and in between every kiss she called you “dumbass” and demanded to know how you could ever think she wasn’t hopelessly in love with you.

You looked up at Steve, flushing. He looked down at the two of you, tangled up, and sat down gracelessly in the grass. “So I was right,” he pointed out smugly. 

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes. 

“Hey, so was I!” Robin protested.

You glanced at Steve. “Wait. Really?” 

He nodded shyly. “I figured Robin would be better for you than I ever could be. But I do...have feelings for you.” He looked away, hair falling over his face.

You glanced down at Robin for permission and she nodded, then pushed yourself into Steve’s lap. “I want both.”

“Oh,” he said, awed, and then leaned in to kiss you, too.

After the necessary kissing had been done, the three of you lay sprawled under your tree, and you were holding both of their hands. “I’m sorry,” you said quietly. “For yelling and for being melodramatic.”

“We’re your best friends, (y/n),” Robin reminded you. “It’s okay. You can talk to us about anything.”

“And now I’m your boyfriend,” Steve pointed out. “I think. So you can ask me to do anything, too?”

“Does that include leaving me alone?” you teased.

“I feel like that’s counterintuitive,” he replied, scrunching up his nose. 

Robin laughed. “I told you. Allergic to genuine human connection and vulnerability.”

You swatted at her arm. “I’m trying, though.” And you were, because these were people worth trying for.

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this fic used to be "changes" but then I kept getting _Landslide_ by Stevie Nicks stuck in my head, and I figured I'd jump on the aesthetic bandwagon and use song lyrics as a title. Plus, Steve loves Fleetwood Mac and Stevie Nicks, and you cannot change my mind.  
This is the new trend in the Stranger Things fandom, I'm calling it now: Everyone recognizing that Robin and Steve sharing a partner (you!) is _such a good idea_. Hope y'all enjoyed this fic!


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